Monday, October 19, 2009

Beloved Haiti


“Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, for they are no more.” (Mat. 2:28b)

Oh Haiti, your tears burn into my heart like fire,
Your mountains stand naked like your children,
Without hands, unable to hide their shame.

Yet, despite orange hair and swollen bellies,
Despite hunger and hardship,
Their beauty cannot be hidden.

Oh mother Haiti, although your tired breasts are dry of milk,
They overflow with endurance and hope.

Your children die of hunger, sweet mother,
Yet you have fed them well,
On a diet of courage and strength.

Oh Haiti, land enslaved by misery,
Land of tears and smiles,
Land of sorrows and eternal hope.

I will not forget you, Haiti,
Beloved Haiti.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

I Thought of Jesus (Part 3 of 3)

PART THREE

Early on Wednesday morning we took off in our bus for Cite Soleil (City of the Sun), a place that experiences horrendous poverty that has often manifested itself in violence and unrest. This gigantic seaside slum is home to almost 400,000 inhabitants of Port au Prince.

The first place we visited there is truly a beautiful oasis amidst the ugliness of extreme need. Margherite Nassau includes so many aspects of support for this impoverished community that it’s difficult to remember them all. Once you enter the gates of this holy place, it’s as if you have accidentally stepped through a time portal to a different place. The buildings are clean and freshly painted, the gardens are manicured, the teachers have their students under control, the children are uniformed and impeccably groomed – order and discipline in the midst of chaos.

But the school is just the beginning. Their immaculately clean kitchens prepare a cooked lunch for the hundreds of children here, for some, possibly the only hot meal of the day. This complex also houses a nutritional center for severely malnourished children and a large free clinic.

Behind the school there are rooms for skills training. Here, the mothers of the children attending the school and those whose children are in the nutritional center are taught how to sew the uniforms that their children will wear. Their sewing skills are honed in this room and so the mothers end up with a skill that will allow them to earn an income in the future. In another room, other mothers are taught how to embroider items that end up being sold to visitors at a little retail area there – tablecloths, napkins, shirts, greeting cards, and more, all beautifully embroidered by these talented mothers.

These Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul truly impressed me. Their age (some of the more mature ones had been there for more than 30 years) and distance from home (Spain, Brazil, Puerto Rico) have never dampened their enthusiasm for the mission.

They have recently hired a teacher to educate the mothers who are in the skills training room. Their rational being that they will learn a skill faster and more efficiently the higher the level of education they attain and, at home, it will be a boost for the children to have at least one parent who has broken the chains of illiteracy.

We saw a teacher outdoors, teaching the kids P.E., and we were exhausted just observing his great energy. The kids??? They were having a ball!!

From here we drove to the heart of the poverty of Cite Soleil. Here we have a feeding center that provides 5-7,000 people their only meal of the day. These are indeed the poorest of the poor – the least of His brothers and sisters. The faces of those in line to receive their servings of rice and beans betrayed the battering their lives had received from multi-generational poverty.

They would soon return to their shacks to share this modest meal with their loved ones – tiny structures of all-zinc with no ventilation other than the hole at the front where a door should have been. In the mid-day sun they swelter and sweat in what always gives me the impression of being a slow-cook roaster. The humidity from the often-muddy floors makes it difficult to breathe in there, particularly since the limited area is also shared with chickens and other animals. A family was kind enough to allow us to visit inside one of these – they would soon be receiving an FFP home.

Food For The Poor is building many houses there. We visited some of these. What a difference! Raised cement floors, concrete-block construction, corrugated metal roofs with hurricane straps, windows and doors… But the difference isn’t just one of construction, the amazing difference is the one that we so clearly saw in the people – more relaxed, easier smiles, their faces, particularly their eyes, spoke of reduced pain.

We walked through the winding back alleys of Cite Soleil, visited our school at Ti Haiti, saw the now-infamous clay cookies being sold and bought some for the speakers. Again, wherever we went, the desperate crowds seeking relief from their suffering surrounded Madame Pun. Again, I thought of Jesus. Back on the bus, one of the priests asked her if she ever got tired of this. “I wish I had a magic wand…” she replied, “but you can’t blame them… we are their only hope.”

I Thought of Jesus (Part 2 of 3)

PART TWO

Our afternoon began with a visit to our boy’s orphanage and school, Foyer de l’Espoir (House of Hope). This was the site of the soccer game between our boys from this home and the “visiting team” from Lynn University that had accompanied me on my last trip. Our boys beat them 6 – 4 and great was their jubilation!

At one point of our visit, the speakers were asked to sit in a shaded area under a large tree and the boys all gathered in front of them (Vicki and I sat to the side). They began to sing some hymns for them and they ended up raising their arms and blessing them. But the experience was far from over, he boys then proceeded to walk towards the speakers and place both their hands on their heads and bless them again, this time more personally, and pray for them. What a beautiful gesture… to bless and pray for those whose very calling is to bless and pray for others.

Suddenly, I saw a young man (not more than 10) walking towards me and, without giggling or losing concentration, he placed both his hands on my head and prayed fervently for me for 3-4 minutes. I wondered if the young man understood why the tears were rolling down my face as he so flawlessly performed this moving sharing. Hundreds, if not thousands of times, I have received the blessings of family, priests, bishops, cardinals and even popes, but none before humbled me or moved me to the extent realized by the blessing from this young and holy orphan. Wow…

But his was not the only occasion in which I would be humbled on this day. We walked next door to the FFP Home for the Elderly immediately afterwards and there, the hundreds of elderly who were once homeless on the streets of the capital welcomed us with warmth and love. Although most are well into their seventies and eighties and even more, they do not believe in just sitting there for a quiet visit. They already had their band (made up of staff members) playing some lively hymns and other music, and as soon as they saw us, they invited us to join them in the dance.

A lady, at least in her late seventies, by a process of geographical proximity, became my dance partner. We danced for what seemed to be a very long time, with my partner becoming more spirited (and more possessive) as I attempted to keep up with her “moves.” Finally, exhausted and drenched in sweat, I stumbled into one of the nearby chairs, as my partner quickly sought my replacement and continued to dance until our departure – half an hour later. Humbled and shamed by a lady at least 20 years my senior!

On the way home, we stopped for a quick visit to the Roman Catholic cathedral in the heart of downtown. Like the elderly whom we had just left, the old cathedral showed many signs of disrepair without losing its beauty, and, like the people of Haiti, it endures.
Archbishop Miot received the group at his residence across the street. He graciously answered the many questions of our speakers. The simplicity of his living conditions and the total absence of lavishness portrayed a deep understanding of and respect for the extreme need of his people.
That night, at the hotel, we had the first reflection meeting, where we discussed what we had seen, what had moved us, what had troubled us, and many insights that we had received during this first day.

I Thought of Jesus (Part 1 of 3)

On Tuesday, May 6th, a group of 19 of us – priests, pastors, deacons, the director of Speakers’ Bureau (Vicki Kaufman) and myself – departed from Fort Lauderdale to Port au Prince, Haiti. The humid heat, the “welcome” music, the crowds offering taxis and to carry our small pieces of luggage and the musicians in the parking lot were all happy reminders that we had arrived. Madame Pun, FFP’s Executive Director there, and Yvon, our highly skilled driver, were there to meet and greet us.

PART ONE

We went directly from the airport to our offices and distribution center. Here, we also operate the only free clinic in a very highly populated area of the city. We were introduced to some of the dedicated doctors and nurses who tend to so many on a daily basis. We also saw the many mothers there who brought their sick babies to be treated. I wondered what would become of those children if the medical care that we offered was not freely available.

I was happy to see that at the clinic they were distributing 2 very nutritional products for the children, many of whom were malnourished: The first was “Pampy-nut” – a paste with a peanut butter base that contains many of the essential nutrients for children; the second was “Akamil” – a meal of grains that makes a nutritious porridge. This last product was actually developed by one of our employees in our Haiti office.

From there we went next door to our own feeding center that supplies a solid hot meal (possibly the only one of the day), 6 days a week, to over 15,000 people in the area. As we entered, we saw a group of people preparing the vegetables for the next day’s meal (two mountains of spinach and egg plants) and I was thrilled to learn that the veggies for the daily meals are grown by our farming project at Santo.

Fr. Dave Delich and myself (adventurers by nature) decided that we wanted to have some of the lunch being served at the feeding center. The kitchen staff was so excited that we wanted to sample their wares! They ran happily to get us plates and utensils, and proudly served us some of the rice and the stew.

I marveled that they managed to cook 2,400 lbs. of rice in gigantic pots and it still came out loose. The stew, which was made with spinach and green beans, contained a base of some inexpensive protein (like pigs feet or chicken backs) and was well seasoned and tasty. I was happy that the staff took pride in their cooking, which added the ingredient of dignity to the meal.

When I stepped outside to the courtyard that is a second waiting area for the crowds that are standing in line to be served, I saw a lot of sadness in the faces there. Yet, there were 2 women who were so happy to see us! They approached us singing welcome songs and clapping their hands, with smiles that were truly contagious. I spoke to some of the people leaving the area with their plastic buckets or metal pots filled with food for their family, and that is when I saw her…

She was a young girl, pre-teen or early teens, and her poverty was more extreme than the others. The only thing she had to carry the food home for her large family was a plastic bag. I saw her struggling with the weight, as she was only using her left hand, with minimal support from her right. As she approached me, I realized that her right hand was incapacitated (I thought about Jesus and the man with the withered hand), and I observed that the entire arm was badly burned.

I engaged her in conversation, and found out that she had attempted to fill a kerosene lamp while it was still lit. The lamp exploded. A woman behind her showed me that it wasn’t only her arm, but her entire right side of her body was badly burned and scarred, right down to her legs. As I spoke to her I continuously caressed her right arm, as if to assure her that I was not repulsed… that she was not repugnant. I again thought of Jesus, and how he always saw the internal beauty in others and made them see the beauty in themselves. I hoped that, in some small measure, I had succeeded in doing this for her.

I grabbed her bag of food to help her and walked towards the exit. When I didn’t see her coming I looked back and saw a terrified look on her face – she thought that I was taking her food away. I pondered on how unaccustomed she must be to being helped and, between hand gestures and my bad Creole, I got the message across that I was just helping her lift it to the exit. When I got there with her, I gave her the bag and we said goodbye. She was totally unaware of how deeply she had touched my heart. 11 – 12 years old… tough life.

As the door opened to let her out, I caught a glimpse of the multitude of people waiting outside to be let in to this serving area. A guard has to stand there by the door for crowd control. I thought of the multitude of people standing out there, pasted on to one another, sweating, day after day, in the sun and heat, with that look of “quite desperation” on their faces… tough life.

As I turned back into the courtyard area, I saw Madame Pun, surrounded by the destitute, making their troubles and petitions known to her. She looked each one in the eye, attentively, sympathetically, patiently. They call her “Manmi Pun,” and indeed she has been a mother to so many. I again thought of Jesus, and how hard it must have been for Him to be constantly accosted with crowds in great need. I remembered the woman with the hemorrhage who touched His garment and he commented, “I felt the power come out of me.”

We then visited the Distribution Center, and it was a pleasure to see and feel the energy of the hustle and bustle in that place - containers being unloaded, trucks being loaded. Help going out to the poor - nothing stationary - everything dynamic. I feel energized!

We all went to the lunchroom for a delicious meal (my second lunch! :o) and I marveled at how much I had already experienced emotionally in just one morning.